


when bridges were burned

by Bananasplit86



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 16:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9769532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bananasplit86/pseuds/Bananasplit86
Summary: Erik had known it was coming. He’d been feeling it for months, ever since Julian had said he wanted to leave Wolfsburg. But even though he was prepared for it to happen, it still took him back and knocked him for 6.





	

**Author's Note:**

> All I will say is this:
> 
> I'm sorry.

Erik had known it was coming. He’d been feeling it for months, ever since Julian had said he wanted to leave Wolfsburg. But even though he was prepared for it to happen, it still took him back and knocked him for 6. 

“I need to go back to Germany.” Erik says quietly, not to anyone in particular, and throws his phone back down onto the sun lounger.

“You know he’s in Miami right? And he’ll probably head straight to Paris after. What good would Germany be and what good will it do you?” 

Erik tenses. He knows that his friend his right. Knows that there’s no point at all, no changing Julian’s mind or even talking through this. This is it. 

“I know. I just-” He pauses. He just what? Needs to be at home alone to wallow on the complete breakdown of his relationship without even a word spoken? Needs to be in Germany to feel closer to his, what, ex- boyfriend? He doesn’t even know.

“If you feel you need to go Erik, then go. I just don’t see the point personally. Stay here, enjoy the rest of the sun and holiday and start the next year with people who actually give a damn about you.”

“He does care about me!” Erik shouts. “I know he does. Don’t you dare bad mouth him to me.”

“He’s got a funny way of showing it.” Peter shrugs. “But it’s up to you. We’re here when and if you need us, we’re not going anywhere.”

Erik shakes, his body is peppered with a mix of anger and sadness, a sense of Peter being completely right, and nods. He can do nothing else only nod.

-

Julian’s heart stops as his phone vibrates. He hadn’t meant for it to get out so soon. He’d been meaning to talk to Erik first, explain his decision about Pairs before it broke, but now it’s too late.

**From Erik: You’re a dick.**

Three words, that’s all. He can feel the anger through them, feel the venom Erik felt as they were typed, and he can feel the disappointment and sadness too. 

Sead raises an eyebrow at him and puts his drink back on the table. “Erik?”

Julian nods and slides his phone across the table to him.

“He’s not wrong though is he?” 

“So you agree with him then? I’m a dick for wanting better, for wanting more out of my career?”

“Well, you gotta look at it from his point of view. You fucked off to middle of nowhere Wolfsburg just 16 months ago and now you’re off to a whole other country without even discussing it with him. How do you think he views all of this? It’s like you want to put distance between you and him, and let’s face it, he didn’t factor once into your decisions did he? So yeah, you’re a dick.”

As much as Julian wants to disagree, he can’t. Sead is exactly right. Erik wasn’t really a thought when he moved to Wolfsburg, and he was even less of one when he was picking Paris over London.

“The question you need to ask yourself is do you still love him?”

“Yes, of course I do.” He snaps.

“Ok then, let’s try this… Are you still in love with him?”

Julian pauses for a moment, thinking, before answering. “I don’t know.”

Sead frowns and shakes his head. “In that case, you need to end it Julian. You’re not doing him or yourself any favours by stringing him along anymore.”

Julian closes his eyes. He knows that Sead is right. It's unfair on them both.

-

Erik grimaces as the light hits his eyes and his head throbs. Perhaps the tequila shots weren't the most grown up way of handling his troubles last night, and neither was the drunken kiss he'd shared on the dance floor. He closes his eyes again and throws the duvet over his head to block out any trace of sunlight that might just sneak through. 

It hurts. Everything hurts. 

His head, his body, his stomach. But more so, his conscience. 

He knows that he and Julian are more than likely heading towards the end, no matter what he tries to tell himself and how much he tries to convince himself that they're still ok. But they're still _technically_ together and he did _technically_ cheat on Julian last night with the tall blond from, he thinks, Estonia, and he does feel a bit of guilt gnawing at him as he lies there.

For a brief second he contemplates rolling over and going back to sleep to make the pain and thoughts go away and just leave him for a few more hours, but his phone beeps and he knows that it's Julian before even looking.

**From Jule: I think we need to talk when we’re back.**

**To Jule: What about? Paris? And how I’ll get to see you about twice a year?**

He knows it’s childish and extreme but he really doesn’t care. His head hurts too much and, it’s a slow realisation, but his heart hurts too. A lot.

**From Jule: I know you’re mad at me and I deserve that. I’m sorry. Please call me when you’re home.**

Erik sighs and tosses the phone somewhere into the bed covers. He’s not mad at all. He’s angry instead and hurt and confused and hungover to hell. 

It gnaws at him as he showers. It pounds inside his brain and nearly swallows him whole. But he knows. He knows he can't do this anymore.

-

The flight home is long and painful, and with each passing mile Julian feels a weight of dread settle in his stomach. A feeling of sickness and regret and sadness. More than once he thinks he’s about to vomit but the feeling passes as he splashes cold water on his face. He thinks that he looks pale and drawn as he gazes at his reflection in the airplane toilet, not exactly how he should be looking after 8 days in Miami with his best friends.

There’s a small sense of relief when they land in Dusseldorf which is quickly followed by the dread again and he can’t help but wish he’d gone straight to Paris instead of home to Gelsenkirchen. Home means Erik. And Erik means… well, he’s not sure. 

He knows that he should end it, knows that it’s the best thing for both of them all things considered. They’ve barely kept it together with a 3 hour drive, he has no idea how they will with a 6 hour drive or even a simple hour long flight with their schedules. He’s just not sure that he can end it. 

He’s thought on it a lot since he spoke to Sead and he does love Erik, with every single fibre of being, and he is still in love with him but he doesn’t know if that’s enough anymore. He doesn’t know if love is enough if he wasn’t willing to consider Erik in his decision to move again. He doesn’t know if love is enough if he wasn’t able to tell Erik before he heard it on the news. He doesn’t know if love is enough at all.

Erik looks as sick as Julian feels when he slides into the small booth at the back of the cafe where they had their second date. He looks tired and gaunt, his face hiding behind a chin full of what Julian assumes is 4 day scruff.

“Hi. I got you a skim latte, one sugar.”

“Uhm, thanks.” Erik says softly, raising his eyes to Julian’s briefly before burying them into the coffee glass. 

Julian watches him for a few seconds and his shoulders sag. He can see the resignation in Erik’s body language and he feels the distance thrumming across the table. They’re barely a foot apart but it might as well be miles.

“I’m sorry.” Is the next thing that Julian can think to say. “I’m so sorry Erik.”

“You already said that.” It’s cold and Julian swallows at the ice in Erik’s words. “Tell me, did our relationship even enter into your thoughts? Did you even think to talk this through with me at any point like any normal couple would do?”

Julian’s stuck, because no, he didn’t. He was blinded by the need and desire to get out of Wolfsburg and the lure of the bright lights and Champion’s League in Paris. He sits quietly for a while, hands wrapped around his mug, eyes drifting over Erik slowly and then away to the far corner of the cafe.

“No. I didn’t and I’m sorry. I should have and I regret not doing so, but I can’t undo that now. How can I make this right Erik? I love you, I’m in love with you and I can’t lose you. Not now. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

“Not after everything you’ve put us through with your selfishness you mean?”

Julian baulks at the venom in Erik’s voice and he sees it finally. He sees the build up months of anguish and barely seeing each other. He sees the build up of frustrations from injuries and snatched moments in the brief periods between games. And he sees the hurt as Erik finally raises his eyes from his untouched coffee.

“I can’t do this anymore.” He whispers, voice low but firm.

Julian sits, stunned into silence, as Erik leaves him behind. He can’t move as he watches Erik walk out of the cafe and his life. He can’t move as a tear slips down his face.

_I can’t do this anymore._

**Author's Note:**

> None of this is true, except Julian's move to PSG.


End file.
